


squeeze

by fishysama



Series: goretober 2019!!! [11]
Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Amputation, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Gen, Goretober, Goretober 2019, Guro, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kidnapping, Original Character(s), Sadism, Sequel, Torture, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-12 19:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishysama/pseuds/fishysama
Summary: goretober day 11: goretober day 5: rest /break/ catch up daytil you pop pop pop pop





	squeeze

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a continuation / parallel of [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356176)? idk maybe,,

“...Hn… Guh…” Akihiko feels faded when he wakes from the spell of chloroform, not in the sense that he’d smoked a little too much pot, but that he was simply not there. The sun had washed the color off his walls. It takes him a while to notice the gag, a little longer for the metal device wrapped around his right forearm. He doesn’t feel fear until the squeezing begins.

He cannot see his attacker, for the light was too dim and when the man dipped beneath just enough, Akihiko simply couldn’t register the details of his face. It looked like a fog obscured his expression; the only thing Akihiko could make out clearly was the eyebrows: black, unkempt, elated.  _ Brain damage _ : the first and only coherent thought he has.

_ Brain damage. _

Squeezing. Akihiko grunts at the feeling, a slight discomfort. His lazy, blinking eyes slowly drag to the source of the tightness: the metal device. It’s a ring with a large clamp attached, like one of those grip strengtheners companies like to plaster their logo on. Squeeze.

The attacker’s hand holds the clamp loosely, studying Akihiko’s drowsy manners. He hums, pleased. He pressures the clamp closed slowly, not only due to the resistance of his skin and muscle and, eventually, bone, but to savor watching him writhe in confusion and pain and, once fully sober, misery. He was right-handed; the attacker knew this from his  _ Wikipedia _ page. The attacker thinks he’s an idiot, letting information like that slide. 

Pushing down so slowly. Akihiko’s head, once lolling about his chest, shoots up. His eyes are wild. The pain has kicked in; he can feel his skin slowly starting to give way. The inner edges of the device are not exactly sharp, but not dull either. They only cut with pressure, extreme pressure. Akihiko feels blood become fresh to the air and oxidized. He sees a blurred version of this through his clouded vision, almost censored and pixelated. He only sees red on peach on silver. The pain tells him it’s blood.

And after skin comes tendons, muscles, the flesh of the matter. Akihiko bites his tongue. As an act of rebellion, he tries to swing his arm up and strike. He  _ tries _ to. Then, he notices that he is bound, elbows and wrists strapped to the arms of a straight chair. The same goes for his ankles, knees, abdomen. The attacker, it seems, knows what he’s doing. He’s experienced. Akihiko doesn’t want to know where this experience stems.

His chest begins to heave suddenly, his eyes watering: a natural reaction to such deep cutting. His vocal cords produce groans and, in the case of a particularly sensitive nerve, screams. Yet, the sounds are all caught by the cloth, shot back into Akihiko’s body, ricocheting around like pool balls with no holes in the table. When the slightest of sounds leak through, the attacker smiles, a satisfactory sort of smile. Akihiko cannot see this smile, but he can feel it in the way that the clamp presses.

Before he is aware of it, the ring had gone through several centimeters of his flesh. The tears have finally let themselves go, trickling down the apples of his cheeks before too disappearing in the cloth gag. Akihiko realizes that there wasn’t going to be an end to this, not before his arm was fully separated, once a part of him and soon to be just a chunk of flesh and bone like any other. His nose begins to leak. Not just brain damage, but body damage. Permanently.

His attacker chuckles with this expression, a wordless begging sprouting from the suffering that  _ he  _ caused. The seizing and struggling of such a famous man’s chest. He feels like authority. And his hand slam together.

A scream comes with the first crack. This time, it’s full comprehensible and clear; the intensity of pain has strengthened the sound. Akihiko’s mind, finally awakening, begins to produce muffled words and phrases. “Stop!” and “Please stop!” and “Don’t do this!” are all softened, but clear.

The attacker doesn’t listen, though. He doesn’t squeeze now, he crushes. His heart goes warm at the sound of cracking. It could be a bite of celery or the split drumstick of a chicken or a ripping of paper, but no, it’s Usami’s Akihiko forearm, the radius and ulna, slowly cracking in two. He couldn’t be more honored.

The moment the last fiber of bone is severed, Akihiko juts up, as if knowing it was over. He inhales like it’s his first breath, or maybe, like his last. His eyes shoot back and forth and up and down and when he looks down, he sees blood in the corner of his eye. Not red, but blood. He struggles but then realizes that it isn’t a struggle anymore, that he can move his arm freely—

And then he sees. Red, raw, and boney: a stub.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://juroguro.tumblr.com/)


End file.
